Harry Potter and the Undulating Quimn
by Cordelia Gainsborough
Summary: When Hermione loses her cat, and finds a new one to fall in love with, little does she know that it will bring her and her friends to a new adventure of dreams, love and destiny. Please r&r.


**Harry Potter and the Undulating Quim Chapter one: The Anus of Destiny**

Hermione sat in the Griffindor common room, admiring her new familiar, Dickbag.

"I say," said Hermione, breathless with excitement, and a deep arousal that quaked in her very core. "I do love my new kitty, Dickbag."

Dickbag strutted around the centre of the floor, proudly displaying his pale pink anus to the assemblage. Ron snorted, and made fart noises with his wand.

"Your mum's a jizz-bag Hermione," he said, noises of flatulence echoing around the room, "and so's your gay dad."

Dickbag turned his slender head scornfully and skulked into the corner to clean himself, tongue rasping across his delicate ivory-pink rosebud.

"Mmm," exhaled Hermione, deeply, barely restraining her arousal from the group's note, the group of her dearest friends and confidantes. What if they found out about her secret desires? Would they throw her out of Hogwarts forever? But whatever happens, her bald gash still soaked the comfy sofa, discharge bleeding right through her cheap Primark panties.

Perhaps it was her imagination, or the result of the peculiar light cast from the dripping candles, but she would have sworn she saw Dickbag wink at her flirtatiously, displaying his succulent anus ever more proudly. And let me tell you, dear reader, it was not with his eye that he was winking, oh so seductively.

Hermione bucked involuntarily, hips thrusting with lust she could not contain. To her embarrassment, she queefed loudly as she did this, wet lips smacking hungrily under her tiny skirt.

She stood up slowly. on the pretense of adding more coal to the, frankly, already well-fuelled fire, saying self-consciously:

"Has anyone seen my wand?"

Yet this meagre deflection was, as it turned out, not needed. Harry was far too interested in watching Ron produce snot from the end of his wand to notice Hermione tentatively lift herself from her seat. Her juices causing her panties to cling momentarily to the warm leather couch, they separated from it with a disgusting wet noise, like the rending of flesh. Her taut, rippling, firm thighs and buttocks were soaked with cunt-juice. She bent over to pick Dickbag up, and anyone who might have been watching would have seen her panties flash, once white and now soaking, pink flesh showing through the translucent material. Between her pert buttocks a perfect brown dot had been imprinted on the cheap wet cotton.

It was this that Dickbag lunged at, the brown bullseye of his feline desires.

Dickbag's velvet paw brushed Hermione's delicate starfish. She queefed again, this time uncaring of who heard. Such was the power of her desire.

Her vagina flapped wildly, like two great sails in the wind, sending the delicious fishy aroma wafting towards the gently quivering, receptive nostrils of Dickbag.

The piscine scent reminded him of dinner, of love, and of sodomy. Before Hermione could protest (not that she would ever tell Dickbag to stop), he flashed his razor claws across her bottom, tearing her pants apart and leaving angry red welts across her perfect milk-white skin.

Hermione squealed, the sound of a shrieking pig ready for slaughter, and dropped to her knees. Her long tresses swung wildly in her face, catching in her mouth and eyes. She couldn't see Dickbag brandishing his fourteen-inch long penis, gleaming and angry and red in the candle-light, though she could feel his hot, stinking breath against her exposed neck. It reeked or cat-sick, and came in the short, sharp bursts of the deeply aroused. The smell caused her rippling vagina to yawn wide, a gasping love-chasm, a sarlacc pit of sexual need. Her anus, much to Dickbag's lusty delight, began to flower like a shitty brown rose. His cheshire grin spread wide, almost as wide as Hermione's spread cheeks.

Hermione felt the tip of Dickbag's colossal member reach around and kiss the lips of her hungry, vagina.

"Mmm, yeah, in my pussy, _puthay._" her words surprised her; felt like they came from someone else. She hadn't meant to say them, not aloud at least. She quickly forgot about this, however, as Dickbag's comforting paw caressed her smooth slender waist and pulled her closer to him, tenderly but firmly, betraying a strength unusual for a cat of his size. She felt his soft fur and rough tongue as he kissed her neck, lovingly.

Hermioned pressed back, feeling Dickbag's twenty-seven inch cat-prick twitch against her yawning rectum. She wanted it in her so badly she thought she might _die_. She wanted to be ravaged, savaged, _cabbaged_. She wanted the spines on Dickbag's thirty-one inches of red-raw cat-lovin' to shred her own pussy until it fell out, a destroyed and bloody gore-bag of useless flesh. She screamed, lactating involuntarily as the sheer power of her Desires, finally uncaged, much as Dickbag was uncaged when she first bought and fell in love with him, brought her to this first shuddering orgasm of her thirteen years of life.

Vaginal discharge hit the floor so much of it pouring out all at once that it sounded akin to a thunder-clap.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" cried Hermione, embarrassed. She was vaguely aware from the snippets of overheard conversation from the older boys in Potions class, that a lack of stamina was something to be ashamed of. But Dickbag extended his paw and gently touched a single velvet pad to her tear-stained lips, silencing her. He purred reassuringly, and she was completely unprepared for what was to follow.

All at once he thrust into her tiny arse, all the way to the hilt, his thighs hitting her buttocks with a sound akin to somebody slapping a blancmange.

He thrust in all at once, and they both were brought to the heady, shrieking bliss of orgasm. She screamed. He yowled, sounding exactly, precisely like a baby dropped down the stairs. His forty-inch love-wand spewed forth its magickal frothy load, coating the walls of her vagina like Dulux's finest eggshell gloss emulsion. The gruesome twosome collapsed in a tender heap, holding each other as they drifted into the deep sleep of two lovers entwined.

"Told you she was mental," said Ron.

**END CHAPTER ONE. LOOK FORWARD TO CHAPTER TWO: THE EFFULGENT GLANS**


End file.
